• Isaac was torn from the pages of his book to the sound of a slamming car door. He didn't have to look out the window to know it was his father getting home from the bar. Isaac always wondered to himself on these kind of days why he had to deal with this, his drunken father, coming home plastered, and causing problems for the whole family. He looked out the window at the sorry sight staggering up the path. Yep, face white as a sheet, and couldn't walk a straight line to save his life. However, there was something off, his eyes looked wild, searching, as if out to kill. Even from the second story, Isaac could see this, and it gripped his gut, twisting it and freezing it solid. A sharp feeling of dread filled his entire body. Something was horribly off.
    Isaac tried to ignore this feeling and turned back to his book, it was probably nothing, after all, seventeen year old men usually had weird, indiscribable moments of sheer terror, right? His hopes that this were true were quickly shattered by the scream downstairs, the scream that was quickly cut off and then replaced by silence, utter, empty silence. Isaac leapt from his bed, grabbed his baseball bat and ran downstairs. His heart was pounding in his head, and his intestines further twisting. He had ignored it before, but now he knew, without a doubt, something was horribly off.
    As he rounded the corner at the bottom of the steps he saw his mother, lying still, unbreathing, in the middle of the room, but that wasn't what robbed him of his breath, but the dark figure of a man leaning over her. Isaac quietly snuck up on the figure and raised the bat. The figure swiftly furned and looked him in the eyes. It was his father, pale, with bloodred eyes, and blood dripping down his chin. Isaac brought the bat down as hard as he could. His father caught the bat, ripped it from his hands, and tossed it aside.
    "The hell is wrong with you!" Isaac screamed, "You're ******** drunk and this is going way too far! She's dead!" The sudden shock of it ripped out his frozen guts and left him shaking. His mother was dead, and his father killed her.
    His father seemed amused by this and looked down upon his shivering child, "Hah! Drunk? I haven't had a drink in three weeks! Oh, but she was exquisite." Isaac's father waved a hand towards the courpse and licked the blood from his fangs, Isaac noted, not teeth, but fangs, and contined, "Ah but here is an issue, you see, you are a witness, and we can't be having that."
    Isaac didn't know what propelled him, but he ran. Weapon. He needed a weapon, something to defend himself. I knife. Perfect. A noise behind him. He turned, his father was right there. Swing, swing, slash, swing. Strike. Strike. Strike! He paused and caught his breath, his father was standing there, amused, as his shirt and chest were slashed wide open, bleeding profusely. He merely chuckled, "I see, indeed being 'my' son has made you stronger than the regular mortal. Our family could use you, indeed, you will be a welcome member." Isaac swung the knife as hard as he could at the exposed chest and saw it bite, cutting the flesh clean, but stopped suddenly as he saw all the rest of the cuts gone, and the one he just made sealing itself up. Next thing he noticed was the pain in his neck.
    "Gyaahhh!!!" His father let out a scream and tore himself away, clutching his throat. With wild eyes he looked at Isaac and cryed out, "Why? What are you!" Without pausing to think, Isaac lunged forward and plunged the knife into his reeling father's chest, tackling him to the ground. He pulled the knife out and raised it above his head, and brought it down again, and again, and again. The wounds did not heal this time, and his father grew still, his eyes glossed over and went black.
    Isaac stared for a moment without breathing, and then lifted the knife in his handlooking at the blood on it. The blood glistenning on the blade, the blood. Like a man possessed, he drew the knife to his lips and licked it, tasting the blood. He breathed it in, swallowing the blood from the knife. "More." As soon as the word left his lips his fthers blood lifted from the walls, the cabinets, the floor, and drained from his body. Isaac drew it all to his lips and drank it in. The sweet crimson nectar of life.
    The sound of sirens brought his mind back to the present. He glanced down and realized with horror what had just transpired. His father had just killed his mother and drank her blood, and he had just done the same to his father. How would he explain that to the cops? There was no way. He dropped the knife and took out the back door, disappearing into the night.